And Ever Onwards
by words.my.voice
Summary: How do you move forward into the future when the past keeps pulling you back? Well, no one ever said life was easy. Especially when the rabbit of the Zodiac is your boyfriend. Sequel to Time of the Rabbit. Momiji/OC
1. Chapter 1 Summer Days

**Well, here we are again. I don't entirely know what the full story will be so we'll see where the characters take me. This owes everything to chi whose little review reminded me of the areas I never got to explore and started the wheels turning again. So if you've read Time of the Rabbit, welcome back to the lives of Namie and Momiji. And if you haven't, (go read it!) I hope you enjoy them. Reviews, as always, are much appreciated. **

Being a receptionist may not have been the most glamorous of summer jobs, but it paid well, did not require much, and all in all, Namie really couldn't complain. Especially when it was the end of the day on a Friday.

There was a whoosh of warm air as the door opened to let a young man into the air-conditioned office. He was tall, lanky, with blond hair and a smooth smile that he shot at Namie when he caught her eyeing him. Casually, he strode to her desk and leaned on the top.

"Good evening miss," he said conversationally, still with the same sly smile.

Namie returned his greeting politely. "Hello sir. Can I help you?"

"I'd like to make an appointment to see Ms. Kimura."

Picking up a pen, Namie opened the notebook in front of her. "Very good. When would you like to schedule your appointment?"

"For 6:00 this evening."

Namie's eyes flicked to the clock on the wall. It read 5:54. She turned back to the young man with a raised eyebrow.

"That's very last minute. I'm not sure she'll be able to meet you."

The man tilted his head and gave her a dramatically disappointed face. "I know. It couldn't be helped. Isn't there anything you can do?"

Despite herself, Namie felt a smile tug at the corner of her mouth. "Well, maybe if you could give me a message to pass along to her, she might be lenient."

"Ah," the man stood up straight, triumphantly bouncing on his heels. Then he put both hands on top of the desk, leaned right over, and kissed Namie right on the lips. He stepped back, a cocky grin on his face.

Namie had to bite her lip as her cheeks flushed. "Name?" she said, looking back down at the notepad.

"Momiji Sohma."

"I'll see what I can do."

"Great! Thanks!" the man said. Then he walked over to the waiting area and flopped down on a sofa, pulling over one of the magazines to read. Namie noticed it was one about gardening and household upkeep.

Shaking her head, Namie stood and went back into the deeper parts of the office. Coming to one door halfway down a corridor, she knocked.

A greying woman wearing a suit and a businesslike expression set down the report she'd been reading as Namie entered.

"Ah, is it time to go already?" she said.

Namie nodded. "Yes ma'am. Is there anything you need me to do before I head out?"

"No, thank you, Kimura."

"Of course. Goodnight, ma'am."

The woman's goodnight echoed in Namie's ears as she hurried to the waiting room again and gathered her belongings into a messenger bag. Seeing her movements, the young man set aside his magazine and stood just as Namie walked around the desk and was about to pass him.

"Well?" he said. "Will Ms. Kimura see me?"

Namie looked him up and down, then let her smile show as a grin spread across the man's face. "I think she can squeeze you in."

He laughed, grabbing her around the waist and spinning her. Namie half swallowed a squeal.

"Quit it, Momiji!" she giggled, wacking him on the arm once she was back on the ground, and glacing around to see if there was anyone to notice them. "I've still got a month or so more! I don't want to get fired."

Momiji tutted and wrapped an arm around her waist as they walked towards the door. "But then you'd get to spend more time with me, your boyfriend!"

"Exactly." Namie pushed open the door, and a wave of warmth and setting sun hit her in the face. Momiji stuck his tongue out at her, and she smiled, pulling him closer.

"I got some good news," Momiji said more seriously. Namie tilted her head back to look at him. "I've been accepted at the university."

"That's wonderful!" cheered Namie. "We should celebrate!"

"With ice cream!" responded Momiji excitedly. Namie agreed and let him pull her two streets over to where there was a small ice cream store. They both picked out scopes (Momiji: butterscotch and strawberry on a cone, Namie: chocolate and coconut in a cup), then stood outside eating them.

"What about you?" Momiji added just as Namie put her spoon in her mouth. "Did you hear from the university you applied to?"

Namie paused, then pulled her spoon out and started mixing it in the ice cream. "No."

"What? Well, I guess it'll be coming soon, right?" Namie didn't look at him. "Right?"

She kept her eyes on her ice cream, swirling the brown and white goo. "I didn't apply."

Momiji stared at her. "Why not?"

Namie sighed and looked Momiji in the eye. Resigned green eyes meeting confused brown ones.

"I'm not going to university Momiji."

_Disclaimer: Fruit's Basket and its characters belong to Natsuki Takaya._


	2. Chapter 2 Time Together

**It's a bit rough, and not very exciting, and I apologize because that's the way they're probably going to be for a bit while I try to figure out how to get where I want to go. But it will get better I promise! Please review.**

Momiji just stared at her, and the sinking feeling in her stomach reminded Namie why she'd put this off so long.

"What?" Momiji all but shrieked. "But we've talked about it! We practiced for the exam together! Why didn't you tell me?"

"I knew you'd try to talk me out of it," Namie murmured.

Taking a deep breath, Momiji calmed considerably, but the quiet disappointment in his voice stung more. "So you waited until it was too late to do anything."

Namie nodded, not looking at him. He sighed, running a hand over his face and pacing back and forth a few steps.

"Well, are you at least going to tell me why now that I can't argue? Or are you going to keep that to yourself too?" he said curtly.

Namie bit back a rising retort. She knew Momiji was just frustrated by being kept in the dark, and she owed it to him to explain.

"My family doesn't have a lot of money Momiji," she said as evenly as she could. "Mom's treatments cost a lot, and what with the fact that she's only just come home from the hospital and is still recovering, I thought it would be best if I stayed at home for a while, took a few night classes, and got a job."

Momiji sighed again, his face softening. "Oh Namie." He stepped forward and folded her in his armed, his cheek resting on her head.

"I'm sorry for the outburst," he said finally. "I just was surprised. And hurt that you didn't tell me earlier."

Wrapping her arms around his back, Namie buried her face in his chest. "I didn't know if you'd listen."

"I'd say 'of course I would have' but I didn't prove myself very well just now."

Namie chuckled. "It's ok. I kind of sprung it on you. I shouldn't have kept it a secret."

She leaned back to look into Momiji's face as he gave her a wry smile.

"No secret, no holding back," he said. "We talk about everything and get through it together. That's our deal right?"

Smiling, Namie nodded. Momiji kissed her softly, then rested his forehead against hers. They stood there in peaceful silence as the first few shadows of twilight started to fall around them.

Then Momiji bounced upright, tugging at her hand. "Well come on then!" he beamed. "We'd best get going if we're going to make the time we have together last!"

OOO

Unfortunately, the time they had left turned out to be deceptively short. Momiji had forms to fill out and planning and preparing to do, and Namie spent most of every day at work or helping her parents and siblings around the house. The summer sped by, and all to soon the couple found themselves picking which of the contents of Momiji's room to pack in boxes.

"What about the lamp?" Namie asked, holding up the object in question.

"No, just the small one on the desk," replied Momiji, pointing. "My roommate said he'd bring a couple of standing ones for the floor."

"That's right, you talked to your roommate on the phone the other day." Crawling under the desk, Namie unplugged the desk light and began to wrap up the cord. "How'd he sound?"

Momiji shrugged. "Alright I s'pose. He said he sleeps late and is a little disorganized, but he's not to loud and he promises to keep his stuff from filling our rooms."

"You're so lucky," Momiji's older cousin, Kagura, chirped as she taped up a box of clothes. "Not only does your roommate not sound crazy, you lucked out and got assigned a room with a double bedroom and a sitting room. My first year I had to share the tiniest room you've ever…"

Momiji caught Namie's eye and shared a grin as Kagura chatted on. As a university student a few years older than Momiji, she had been enlisted to give advice on what to bring and what to leave. Kagura's inclusion had initially made Namie nervous. Momiji knew that a feeling of being out of place and a bad experience with the Sohmas had given Namie hesitation when it came to Momiji's relatives. But he had brought her along to a few smaller family dinners, and as the family warmed up to her, Namie grew more comfortable. Now she even seemed to be having fun, laughing and listening to Kagura's seemingly endless talking.

"Damn it." Kagura broke her story off, shaking the tape roll. "That's it for that roll. I'll go get more."

The room was a lot quieter now.

"Sorry, about this," Momiji said, giving Namie an apologetic smile. "I know she talks a lot and is kind of crazy."

"Don't worry," chuckled Namie. "I've got Anii as a little sister. I'm used to endless chatter. Kagura's nice."

Pleased, Momiji grinned as he carried a couple framed photos over to a stack of bubble wrap. Namie wandered past him, looking over the things he'd left on the shelf.

"You forgot this one," she said softly.

Momiji stiffened. Without saying it, he knew exactly which picture she was referring too. "No, I didn't forget," he sighed.

"Aren't you going to bring it with you?"

Momiji fiddled with the wrapping, staring out the window. "I don't know. Maybe I should leave it behind."

Something bumped against his shoulder, and Momiji looked down to see that Namie was leaning her cheek against him. Silently, she held out the picture, and Momiji took it, staring down into the blonde woman's brown eyes that were just like his.

"Don't you always say," Namie murmured, "that's it's better to remember the bad, than forget the good as well?"

Momiji gave a small sniff, then nodded and placed the picture in the box. "You're right. I'll take Mom too."

Namie let him stand there quietly for a moment, before squeezing his arm and moving away.

"Now," she said more brightly, "how about the rabbit pillows?"

Momiji rubbed his face quickly and went over to her, a perfectly natural smile rising to his face in spite of himself. "Oh definitely."

_Disclaimer: Fruit's Basket and its characters belong to Natsuki Takaya._


	3. Chapter 3 Meetings

**First of all, let me apologize for taking so long to update. School has swallowed me whole. Hopefully I should go back to my regular schedule of once a week now. This chapter's a little longer than normal to make up for the wait. It's quite a bit of exposition, but I've pretty much figured out where I'm going with the story, and it requires set up. A warning, there will be a lot of OCs. About the language: you are about to meet a character that swears. Quite a bit. It's just his personality. That's one of the reasons the rating of this story is T, not K+. Momiji and Namie are growing up, I want their surroundings and their story to reflect that. Finally, please review! Let me know you care and that I haven't lost you by not updating! **

And finally, it was the last day of summer. Akito, the head of the Sohmas, had offered to hold a party, but Momiji instead chose to spend a quiet evening with Namie's family. Her little sister Anii sniffled and kept making Momiji promise to visit often, and her teenaged brother, who'd finally warmed to his sister's boyfriend, had a spirited conversation with Momiji about music.

After dinner was over, Namie walked Momiji out with a heavy heart. They paused together, just outside the door of the building.

"This is where I kissed you for the first time isn't it?" Momiji said with a smile.

Namie raised an eyebrow. "Actually, I kissed you, if I remember correctly."

Momiji laughed and pulled her close. "Of course. You're always the one to push me out of my safety zone."

Namie smiled softly and rested her forehead against his. "And you always draw me out of my shell."

The only sound in the warm, quiet night was the crickets chirping at the stars.

"I'll miss you," whispered Namie.

"I'll miss you too," Momiji murmured back.

"Don't move on into your new world too much and forget about me."

"Never," Momiji breathed as he leaned in to kiss her.

As he finally walked off down the street, Namie leaned against the building and watched him.

"Hey," a soft voice said from behind her. Namie turned to see her mother coming to place a hand on her shoulder. They looked the same. Same bright green eyes, same ash blonde hair, though Yumiko Kimura's was much shorter.

"What are you thinking about," she asked her daughter.

Namie smiled sadly and looked back at Momiji's shrinking back. "I'm going to miss him. It's going to be lonely."

Her mother nodded and put her arms around Namie. "I know," she said fondly. "But you know, being alone is not always the worst thing. You get to know your own strength."

Momiji turned the corner and disappeared from sight. Namie turned to her mother again. "I know." Suddenly she grinned. "And who am I kidding? I'm still here at home with all of you. I'm never alone!"

Her mother laughed and hugged her as they returned to their apartment.

OOO

Thank goodness Momiji was good at staying organized, or he would have already be overwhelmed and lost by the amount of papers and information he's been given in his first two days at university.

His roommate was an amiable, dark haired boy named Hitoshi, who smiled and shook Momiji's hand upon meeting him. Far from becoming best friends on sight, as Momiji could help but hope a little, they found it quickly became apparent that they had different interests.

"I'm a sports guy," Hitoshi said conversationally. "Do you play anything?"

"No," answered Momiji. "Never have."

"Really? But you follow them at least?"

"Not exactly."

"You don't follow sports?" Hitoshi's eyes were huge and his tone aghast. "Not even soccer?"

"Nope," Momiji replied, more jauntily than he felt. "I just never really got into it."

Hitoshi whistled. He looked Momiji up and down and gave a small chuckle. "So what do you do?"

Momiji cast around. What did he like to do? "I like reading. And playing music."

Polite interest appeared in Hitoshi's face. "You're a musician? What instrument?"

"Violin." Momiji nodded to the black case sitting next to his suitcase.

Hitoshi nodded. "Classy. So will you be joining the orchestra?"

"I don't know. There're so much other things to get used to," Momiji said evasively. "We'll see."

"Well, I'll have to hear you play sometime," Hitoshi replied graciously. The statement was more a courtesy than a promise, but Momiji preferred it that way. Strange as it sounded, he didn't like playing in front of others since he'd stopped lessons. Even Namie had never seen him play.

On top of their divergent interests, it turned out that Hitoshi already had a best friend.

"My girlfriend," he explained, holding up proudly a picture he was hanging by his bed. "She's studying here too to be a doctor. Way smarter than me. She's my other, better half."

Even as Momiji held up his own picture of him and Namie hugging and laughing at the camera, he felt a twisting pang in his stomach. The pang was still there later that afternoon as Momiji wandered the campus, trying to figure out where his first class would be so he wouldn't be late the next day.

Momiji had gotten used to being surrounded by people he knew. His family, his cousins, Namie. The last school he'd gone too, there had been no less than three of his family members attending when he started. And of course, he'd always lived on the Sohma family complex, where everyone had know him since birth.

So much of Momiji's personality was based on dealing with whoever was around him, as Momiji walked he found that he didn't quite know how to behave. Should he be the silly, cheerful, admittedly childish boy he'd been for most of his life? Should he be the more comfortable and calmer, yet still a bit silly, person he was around Namie? Or should he show a different side of him entirely? The Namie persona was the most true to himself, but also the most vulnerable. Momiji didn't know if he was ready to embrace that all the time, in a school full of strangers.

But maybe he was over thinking this. He was Momiji Sohma. He'd worn a dress to high school for much of his first year and a half there. He didn't care what other thought. He would act as he pleased.

Comforted by this decision, Momiji stood a little straighter, his shoulders back and his usual jaunty spring coming back into his step. He was practically skipping as he went around the next corner.

And promptly tripped over someone's legs and went sprawling on the floor. Slightly annoyed, but mostly curious, Momiji scrambled around on his knees to find another student sitting on the floor with his back against wall and his legs stretched out in front of him. He blinked sleepily at Momiji, then pushed his overlong dark brown bangs out of his eyes. Some scruffy hair on his chin and a rumpled black tee-shirt and jeans clashed with his coolly handsome face.

"Who the hell are you?" the rumpled stranger asked conversationally, as if this happened often.

"Momiji Sohma," Momiji replied automatically, not getting up from the floor.

"Grade?"

"First-year."

"Ah," the stranger stuck out a hand. "Genjiro Itô. Third-year. Welcome to our little shithole."

When Momiji just stared at him in reply, Genjiro gave a short laugh and pushed himself up from the floor.

"It's not that bad, really," he said, brushing down his pants. "You just gotta find the right crowd. See you round first-year."

And, with Momiji still kneeling on the ground and staring, feeling utterly taken aback, Genjiro sauntered off.

OOO

"Now, the rules are simple. No hurrying a customer, no being late, no zoning out, no leaving a customer waiting, no being unfriendly, no talking back to the cooks or your superiors when they give you an order, and no coming out of uniform, which means no jewelry, no jeans, a white collared shirt, your nametag, and your Lotus Flower Italian Cuisine apron. Oh, and absolutely no dropping food!"

Namie found that all she could do was nod as the loud, red faced woman, who was now her boss, gave her the rapid-fire list of instructions. Satisfied that Namie seemed to have understood her, the woman walked off to bark instructions at the bus boys.

The "family-style, casual-mood, authentic-cuisine" Italian restaurant where Namie was now a waiter was small and brightly lit, if not completely attractive. A few bunches of fake peppers and plastic grapes hung from the walls, between candelabras sticking out from the plaster and large windows that looked out over a parking lot. A long counter ran half the length of the room, serving as a bar. Everything was white washed or mahogany wood.

Namie sighed, tugging at the black apron. She wasn't exactly sure why she had chosen to become a waitress. Dealing with a bunch of strangers, smiling and acting friendly, moving quickly and calmly in response to orders and incidences, weren't really her cup of tea. They were all much more Momiji's style. Then again, taking care of everyone else's needs was kind of Namie's specialty, so maybe she was suited to this job. That, and it was the best job nearby that she could find on short notice that paid well and was hiring.

"Hey, newbie. Look alive."

A tall girl at the bar with died black hair and an apron matching Namie's was removing piercings from her ears. When she saw Namie turn to look at her, she gestured exasperatedly with one hand.

"Yeah you, come on!"

Namie hurried over to the counter. The restaurant had not opened yet and the room was empty except for Namie, her fellow waiters: the girl with the died hair and piercings and solemn-looking busboy. Namie could hear the loud woman shouting over the clanks of pans in the kitchen.

"Take the napkins and silverware and make sure each table has a full set," the girl said. Closer up, Namie noticed she had on bright red lipstick and her nametag said "Seiko". She must have had quite a number of piercings, judging from the sizable pile of silver studs on the counter.

"Well get going newbie!" Seiko said tersely. "Don't stand her like a scared rabbit! We're opening soon!"

Gathering up a huge handful of forks, knives, and spoons, Namie exhaled though her nose and headed off to the first table. It was covered with a red and white checkered cloth and a vase of flowers. She felt a pang as she remembered once when Momiji had decorated a table for her similarly. Namie missed his infectious happiness.

"And don't forget the menus," added Seiko as she passed Namie, plunking down a stack of menus. Namie nodded and picked one up. She didn't know much about Italian food, but spaghetti and tofu balls did not seem very authentic to her. This was going to be interesting.

_Disclaimer: Fruit's Basket and its characters belong to Natsuki Takaya._


	4. Chapter 4 Birthday Surprise

**Again, it's been much too long since my last update (I don't think I've ever left it this long actually), and again, I mush apologize. This is what being a senior reduces you to. Hopefully I'll finish by the end of the summer. There's some exciting stuff coming that I want to get to! Please let me know your thoughts. **

One of the risks of not being a very social person, is that it then becomes awkward when you have to ask others for a favor. And Seiko was not exactly the easiest person to approach in the first place.

In the couple weeks that Namie had now been a waitress at Lotus Flower Italian Cuisine, the young woman had said no more than three sentences to her that were not work related, and one of them had been to tell Namie that she'd spilled spaghetti sauce on herself.

But now was not the time to be shy. It was either ask or scrap Namie's half-formed plan all together. So as they were setting up for the day one Saturday, Namie gritted her teeth and approached Seiko. She was perched on a corner of the bar, folding napkins while attempting to chat up the (at least as far as Namie was aware) monosyllabic busboy.

"Um, Seiko," Namie said in a stronger voice than she felt. "When you've got a sec, can I talk to you?"

Seiko raised an eyebrow and scooted herself around so she was facing Namie instead of the busboy.

"Yes?" she drawled, twirling a strand of died black hair around her finger.

Namie took a breath. "I was wondering if you would be able to cover my shift tomorrow evening."

Seiko's eyebrows went higher. "What times?"

"I have to leave at 3 o'clock, then we close early at 8 o'clock since it's Sunday."

"I know what time we close, newbie. That's five hours of dinner rush. You better have a damn good reason for leaving if you want me to cover for you."

Feeling self conscious, Namie told her the truth. "It's my boyfriend's birthday. I want to surprise him and have dinner with him."

Seiko's eyebrows now reached a height that Namie would have previously considered impossible.

"Your boyfriend?"

"He's at university, and it takes a couple hours to get there by train," Namie continued, nodding nervously.

Tapping her pursed, bright red lips, Seiko considered her carefully for a long minute. Then she held out a hand importantly.

"Picture."

Namie regarded the hand curiously. "What?"

"A picture. Come on, I want to see him."

"Oh." Namie fumbled for her phone. The first picture she found of Momiji had been taken near the end of the summer, before he left. He was laughing hysterically at something, about to fall out of his chair.

Seiko took the phone and gave the picture a once over. To Namie's surprise, the austere girl's face split into a smile.

"Not bad newbie! He's cute!" She looked up and caught Namie's eye. "Go on," she said in a warmer tone than Namie had ever heard her use before. "Go have dinner with him tomorrow. I'll cover."

Namie found herself smiling back. "Thank you."

"But you owe me," Seiko added, pointing a finger threateningly at Namie's chest, then fading into a cheeky grin.

OOO

Then next day, after a bus ride, a three-hour train ride, a few more bus rides, and a little while of wandering around the university looking for a map, Namie finally arrived at Momiji's door. As she raised a fist to knock, a sudden feeling of worry filled her, and her hand dropped back to her side without touching the door. It had been about a month since she'd last seen Momiji. In their nightly phone calls he was filled with stories about classes and professors, dining halls and washing room adventures, and new and interesting people. Namie was inexplicably nervous that she might not be as exciting anymore.

Telling herself she was being silly, Namie raised her hand again and knocked determinedly on the door.

Which was immediately opened by a girl. A pretty girl. In what Namie was sure were Momiji's rooms. Panicking, Namie found herself lacking the ability to speak.

"Hello," the girl said politely. "Can I help you?"

As Namie struggled to find words, any words, a boy appeared behind the girl.

"Who's that, Mai?" he asked, peering at Namie as he draped an arm lazily around the girl's shoulders.

Namie suddenly regained the use of her tongue. "I'm looking for Momiji."

The boy's face immediately went from curious to grinning. "You must be Namie! Momiji's always talking about you. Come in, come in! I'm Hitoshi, his roommate. And this is Mai, my girlfriend."

Feeling a little foolish, Namie smiled and shook hands with the girl, following her and Hitoshi inside.

"Welcome to our humble abode," Hitoshi said grandly, waving a arm around at the small sitting room. "Mai and I were about to order a pizza and watch a movie. I know it's early, but I'm always hungry so whatever. You're welcome to join us. I think Momiji's studying in his room."

Namie laughed, politely declined, and followed Hitoshi's finger pointing to a closed door. Tiptoeing, she quietly pushed it open to reveal Momiji. He was sitting at his desk, fast asleep with his head on a somewhat disheveled stack of books and papers. Namie fought the urge to both laugh and tackle him in a hug, as she made her way across the room and gently shook his shoulder.

"Wha—" Momiji sat bolt upright and stared at her in confusion. As recognition dawned, the confusion gave way to joy. "Namie!"

And now she did tackle him in a hug.

"What are you doing here?" he chortled, hugging her back enthusiastically.

"It's your birthday silly," she said, leaning back so she could kiss him. "I had to come celebrate!"

"That's right. It's my birthday. I forgot!" Momiji exclaimed, laughing and kissing her again.

"You forgot your birthday?"

"Well, my birthday was a little complicated in my family." Momiji's smile faded. "In the beginning, Mom would feel really under pressure, then there would be a blowout, and Dad would have to take over. By the time I was five they might get me a present or a small cake to eat by myself, but that was it. After she had her memory wiped, the extended family didn't do much either. So I guess I never really felt like my birthday was a big deal or something to celebrate."

Namie swallowed, thrown off-balance, as she was every time Momiji shared some sad fact from his childhood, as if it was unremarkable. And to him, she supposed, it was. Just regular life.

"Well," she said, stroking his cheek and leaning in for another kiss. "I'm here to change that."

Their celebrating consisted of eating ramen at a little shop around the corner, swapping news and talk, dueling with the chopsticks, and eating lots of ice cream. When Namie gave him his presents, Momiji laughed at the _500 Quick and Easy Ways to Have Fun_ book, exclaimed excitedly over the mixed CD, and agreed with Namie that the watch with a face like a bunny and hands like whiskers, was "totally him".

They left the ice cream shop hand in hand and stepped into the night, licking the remainders of their cones. Momiji smiled, feeling perfectly content. He felt much more natural and confortable with Namie with him again. A group of chattering university students passed them, headed for the bar a few buildings down.

"S'up first-year!" yelled one of them, that Momiji recognized as Genjiro. A girl shrieked with laughter, and someone catcalled.

"Do you know them?" Namie asked once they'd passed.

"Just some guy I tripped over during the first few days of school," Momiji shrugged. Namie nodded, but still looked back over her shoulder at the crown warily.

Eager to change the subject, Momiji tugged on Namie's hand and pulled her to a bench under a streetlight. Once she'd sat down, Momiji bounced up and down, one hand in his pocket.

"I have a present for you too!" he finally chirped excitedly.

"A present?" she laughed. "Momiji, I don't think you fully understand the concept of birthdays."

"Whatever." Grinning broadly, Momiji held out a small package to her, wrapped in a paper bag. "Sorry it's not better wrapped."

Namie took it, turning it over curiously in her hands. She reached in and pulled out two necklaces. Each had half a jagged heart hanging from a chain. One said "best" and the other said "friends". Dissolving into laughter, Namie turned them over in her hands.

"Are these those friendship necklaces they sell to little kids?" she said, giggling.

"Yup," chortled Momiji. "It made me think of you. Maybe it can make you think of me!"

"I love it," Namie said, beaming up at him. "I'll wear it all the time."

"I love you," Momiji said, his cheer fading into earnestness as Namie stood to be wrapped in his embrace.

"I love you too," she whispered before kissing him.

Her words still echoed in Momiji's ears as he waved to her through the bus window later. The half heart pendant was visible above the collar of her shirt, matching the one he could feel resting on his chest. Her smile as the bus drove away eased the ache that began to grow back in Momiji's stomach. Well, it almost did.

_Disclaimer: Fruit's Basket and its characters belong to Natsuki Takaya._


	5. Chapter 5 Groups

**Hmm, not my best. Particularly the Momiji part. But whatever, it's done. I got something out! And I've been excited to have some fun with that Namie part. Review please and tell me what you think.**

"You joined a what?" Namie said, incredulously.

"A rock group."

She plugged one ear so she could block out the noise coming from inside the restaurant, sure she'd heard Momiji's words incorrectly over the phone. "A rock group. Momiji, you play the violin."

"Yes, but I didn't join one. I'm just hanging out with one. I don't actually play."

"How did that happen?"

OOO

It had been unexpected for Momiji too. Though he had carefully concealed this fact from Namie, as he was nearing two months at university, Momiji had yet to make any good friends. He still got on fine with his roommate, and there were people to say hello to from various classes, but, more often than not, Momiji found himself walking, eating, and studying alone, with his free time spent reading, wandering around campus, or playing the violin in his room. This was not entirely strange or terrible to Momiji, much of his life before Namie had passed in the same way. He was a solitary person and, besides his family, not used to being a part of a group.

Until one Friday, when he'd stayed after class to speak with a professor. His musical composition teacher to be exact. An elderly man who was always drinking tea and encouraging his students to come by his office to listen to a new piece of music, Momiji had taken a liking to him immediately, and vice versa.

On that particular day, Momiji had stayed after class for a few minutes to discuss his latest assignment.

"I like what you're doing here with the melody," the professor said, gesturing at the passage.

"There aren't too many minor thirds, Itou Sensei?" Momiji countered.

"No, no, it's very original. You know, you remind me of my assistant." At that, Itou Sensei walked over to his office door and leaned inside. "Hey, Genjiro! Wake up. You're supposed to be helping me grade."

When a sleepy eyed Genjiro finally was dragged around the corner, rumpling up his hair absentmindedly, Itou Sensei waved Momiji over.

"Here Genjiro, this is Momiji Sohma. He might be able to help you with that song you were talking to me about."

And that was how Momiji had ended up sitting in a bar with a bunch of older students staring at him and a stack of music sheets sitting in front of him.

"Um, what is it exactly you're trying to do?" Momiji turned hesitantly to Genjiro, who'd shook his hand and pulled him along to the bar without much speaking and was now downing something that the waitress had brought him.

After that Genjiro seemed to perk up, explaining that he'd been trying to build a creepy, eerie sounding song for his rock group, the majority of which were wandering in and out around them, but had hit a snag. On a whim, he'd asked Itou Sensei if he had any ideas or a student with some time on his hands.

And that student, it seemed, was Momiji. By the end of the afternoon, Genjiro liked his attempt at rewriting the music so much that he'd slapped Momiji on the back, declared him the "best damn first year" he'd ever met, and introduced him to the rest of the older students as his assistant. While it was true that Genjiro had been becoming progressively tipsier as this went on, and that the other students addressed Momiji only at Genjiro's prompting, for once Momiji found he had almost become a part of something. And he'd found he'd liked it.

A feeling he was now communicating energetically to Namie during her break.

"Well, that certainly sounds exciting," Namie replied. "I have to get back to work now, but I'll call you later?"

"Ok! I'll tell you more then," chirped Momiji.

"Sounds good." Namie's voice was pleasant, but there was a wariness too. "And Momiji?"

"Yeah?"

"Be careful."

OOO

When Namie got inside, Seiko immediately made a beeline for her, wearing a face that said something not at all good was coming.

"Thank God you're back," Seiko said without preamble, shoving a notepad and pen into Namie's hands.

Namie took them, confused. "What's wrong? Is everything alright in the kitchen?"

"The kitchen's fine. It's the Royal Bastards."

Namie blinked. "Excuse me?"

Sighing, Seiko pointed at a group of five young men, about Namie's age or maybe a year or two older, seating themselves around a table under the window. "Them. They come in every once in a while, order nothing, and eat enough bread to feed a small village. I can't do anything with them. Last time I actually threatened to call security and have them evicted." Seiko hopped up on the counter and rapidly wrapped silverware in napkins as she spoke. "And, of course, the boss doesn't believe me that we should and insists on making me serve them."

"So what do we do?" asked Namie, peering at the boys curiously.

Seiko gave her a wicked grin. "I have to finish making these sets of silverware. You are going to go serve them."

After a cheeky, but good natured, "Newbie's duty!" from Seiko, Namie finally went over to the group and politely asked if they would like anything to drink. They were perfectly friendly to her, and when she returned with four waters (the only free drink on the menu) and a basket of bread, she wondered if Seiko had been simply being over dramatic.

The first time she asked if they were ready to order, they asked for more time and a little more bread to fill the already empty basket.

Five minutes later, she came back and was immediately sent back off for more bread, with no orders.

Ten minutes later, they actually called her over to request another basket of bread, but claimed to still need "just a second more" to weight their choices.

The fourth time Namie stopped at their table, she was feeling distinctly annoyed.

"Are you ready to order yet?" she said curtly, now understanding Seiko's reluctance to serve the boys.

"Not quite yet," the dark haired leader said innocently. "Can we have some more bread please?"

Namie sighed through her nose, her annoyance getting the better of her.

"No, you can not have any more bread. Look, you've all had long enough to read over the entire menu at least five times, and I've got better things to do than cater to a bunch of guys who just want to mess around. The bread is for actual paying customers, so you all can order or pay and get out."

The guys shifted uncomfortably in their seats, but the leader held her gaze as she stared him down. Then he turned nonchalantly to look at the others.

"Well then boys, what do you think?"

A charming smile on his face, he turned back to Namie. "An extra large bowl of spaghetti to share please, Miss…" he paused for a moment to glance at her nametag, "Namie."

Namie was so shocked she almost forgot to write down the order. "R-right," she stammered. "That'll be ready soon."

As she hurried to place the order, Namie passed Seiko leaning with her elbows on the bar and her bright red mouth hanging open.

"I think," Seiko said as Namie brushed past, "you're my hero."

_Disclaimer: Fruit's Basket and its characters belong to Natsuki Takaya._


	6. Chapter 6 Unforeseen Developments

**Review please. Makes me go faster.**

Monday of Momiji's first long weekend at university, and Momiji decided, to hell with it. He had a paper due the next morning and two more chapters to read, but it was Namie's day off, and he was going to go visit her. Besides, he could read on the train and surprising her would be a nice way to repay her for surprising him on his birthday.

As soon as the train stopped at the station in the early afternoon, Momiji bounced off, eager to get there soon and relax for a bit. It was still a bit hard, being at university, and he missed the comfortable ease of being with Namie. The trip took two more bus rides, and he was beginning to see why Namie didn't come to visit him more often, but finally Momiji reached the familiar apartment building.

The buzzer took the a few minutes, when no one answered right away. Momiji shifted feet, nervously wondering if Namie had gone out, then there was a click and a "Hello?"

The voice was out of breath and polite, but Momiji's face split into a wide smile. "Surprise!" he crowed, leaning into the speaker, as if she could see him through it.

"Momiji!" Namie certainly sounded surprised. Maybe a little too much so. Momiji frowned. "Um, hang on a sec," she continued in tone that was slightly on edge. "I'll just come down. Let me grab my coat and, uh, shoes, shoes, where are my shoes…"

Her voice trailed off. Momiji could picture her looking around frantically for her shoes.

"Don't worry, I can come up," he said, trying to figure out what was going on.

There was a pause. "Ok." The speaker clicked off and the door latch opened.

Excitement overcoming the oddity, Momiji took the stairs two at a time, finally reaching the door and banging on it energetically.

Namie opened it. She still had a note of worry in her face, but she beamed at the sight of him anyway.

"You should have told me you were coming!" she laughed, hugging him tightly.

Momiji laughed and hugged her back, then held her at arm's length, scrutinizing her. "Is something wrong?" he said carefully. "Your mom?"

Namie waved him off, looking almost normal. "No, no, she's great! She's actually at the shop right now, forcing Jien to get some new clothes that aren't too small for him. He's growing again. But Dad and Anii are here."

"That's wonderful!" Momiji smiled, still a little concerned. It wasn't like Namie to keep her worries secret from him, especially after he called her on it.

"Isn't it?" Namie beamed back. She glanced over her shoulder into the apartment, then back at Momiji. "I found my shoes!" she said, covering the gesture by nodding to her feet. "How about we go for a walk? It's a ni—"

"Is that Momiji?" Namie's father's voice floated out of the still ajar door. He appeared, leaning around it to greet Momiji. He had dark hair and a stocky build, like Namie's brother, Jien. Namie's looks took after her mother.

"Come in, come in," he gestured for Momiji to follow him in. Momiji did as he was bidden, as did Namie, though he just caught a slightly panicked look on Namie's face as she did so.

"Don't mind the mess." Namie's father said, waving at a pile of markers, glue, paper, and glitter on the kitchen table. "Anii's got a friend over."

"Which is why it's getting pretty cramped in her, so Momiji and I were going to go out for a bit," Namie said conversationally.

"Nonsense," replied Momiji, still considering Namie, trying to figure out what was going on in her head. "I love Anii's friends. They made me tea last time."

Namie's father laughed and left the room, leaving Namie and Momiji alone. Neither said anything. For once, Momiji had a completely serious look on his face as he stared the fidgety young woman down.

"Namie?"

At last, she dropped the pretense that nothing was wrong. "Momiji, I'm sorry, but I really think it'd be better if we just—"

"Momiji!" Anii, Namie's nine-year-old sister, came barreling into the kitchen, tackling Momiji around the middle and cutting off her anxious sister.

"Uff, hello Anii," Momiji chuckled, then glanced up and caught sight of the other small girl, Anii's playmate, peering timidly at him

And his heart stopped.

Suddenly, it was clear. Namie's hesitation, her attempts to keep him out of the apartment, her concern, the reason she didn't want to tell him what was wrong, and why the rest of the family was so unworried.

The little girl watching him, big brown eyes matching Momiji's own as he stared at her. In fact, everything about their faces matched. Same round shape, same blond hair, same nose.

"Momo," Anii pulled away from him and spoke to the girl. "This is Momiji, Namie's boyfriend," she giggled on the last word and turned back to Momiji. "Momiji, this is my friend, Momo."

Momiji couldn't say that, yes, he knew her name, he'd known it since she was born, had seen her grow up off to the side from the shadows since then, but it was enough to shake him out of his trace. "Ah, yes, hello Momo."

"Hi Momiji," Momo replied softly, and Momiji suddenly felt like he was going to cry or hug her or both. She was so close to him, close enough to touch. It'd been a long time since he'd last been this close to her and never without a member of the Sohma family present.

"Momo has the same last name as you Momiji," Anii continued. "Are you related?"

It took all his years of faking unconcern to allow Momiji to smile nonchalantly now and say, "Distant cousins I think."

He finally ripped his eyes away from Momo, looking instead at a half drawn picture on the table. Dimly he heard Namie shooing the two girls down the hall. The door to Anii's room clicked shut, and silence fell.

"Momiji?" Namie asked softly, coming back into the kitchen.

At this, his legs finally collapsed as he sank into an empty chair, drawing a hand over his face and taking a shaky breath. Why was he breaking down now? He'd taken this before. But he wasn't prepared for it.

"When'd they meet?" he said, as evenly as he could, his hand still to his face.

"A month or so. You know how Mom started Anii in piano lessons over the summer? They met at a recital. This is her third time over to our home."

Momiji nodded, pulling himself together.

"I'm sorry, Momiji," Namie murmured, coming over to him and resting a hand on his shoulder. "I— I didn't mean to keep secrets from you. I just… didn't know how you'd feel to know…"

"… that my sister who doesn't know who I am, and I'm not allowed to talk to is in your apartment," finished Momiji. He inhaled slowly, then let it out in a sigh. He looked up at Namie's distraught face and smiled. "I know. You did what was probably best."

Feeling more composed, Momiji stood and kissed her. She kissed him back, leaning in and wrapping her arms around him. A little more of Momiji's earlier contentment started to come back.

"Come on," he said, putting and arm around her waist and pulling her close. "That walk sounds nice."

OOO

Momiji didn't go back into the apartment again that day. Both he and Namie reached an unspoken agreement that it would not be the best idea. Instead, they walked around a nearby park, laughing and talking, and Momiji did his best to overlook any lingering sadness. Acknowledging the long time it took to get back to school, Momiji and Namie bought an early dinner and said their goodbyes outside the apartment door.

But, despite the time press, Momiji couldn't leave when Namie went back inside. He tried once or twice to start toward the bus stop, but always ended up slowing down and turning around. Finally, he gave up and waited outside the building instead, just out of sight. He knew he shouldn't be doing this, but he couldn't help it.

At last, as it grew dark, the door opened, and Namie, Anii, and Momo stepped out. Momiji made sure he was hidden as he watched them.

"Now, Momo, your father should be here in a few minutes to pick you up so we'll wait for him out here," Namie was saying. "Anii, where's your coat?" she sighed, catching sight of her younger sister in her tee-shirt.

"I'm not cold," Anii protested, though the fact that she was rubbing her arms and hopping from foot to foot, somewhat undermined this statement.

"Nonsense, go get one!" said Namie exasperatedly. When Anii protested that her coat had been lost in her closet, Namie sighed again and dragged her back inside with a "Come on. We'll be right back, Momo!"

Momo was left on the pavement by herself. Almost unconsciously, Momiji stepped out of his hiding place slowly. Momo must have heard the noise, because she turned suddenly and spotted him.

Momiji froze, his heart beating very quickly.

"Momiji!" Momo said, and she smiled.

Momiji's heart missed a beat, and he unfroze abruptly, smiling back as he walked over to the girl. "Hello."

"Are you looking for Namie? 'Cause she went inside but she'll be back in a moment."

"Um no, no, I—" began Momiji, with no idea of what he was about to say.

"Are you here to talk to me?" Momo said softly. Momiji stopped and looked at her. She was almost… hopeful.

"Yes," he said simply. The girl, his sister!, smiled.

"I watch you sometimes," she said. "At the main house. You like to play the violin. But you're not there anymore."

"I'm at university now," he replied. Momo nodded, and Momiji swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry.

"Momo," he began hesitantly, "a long time ago, you spoke to one of my friends."

"The brown haired girl? She was nice. She looked like she was going to cry."

Momiji chuckled. "She does that. She said… she said you'd like— you'd like it…"

"If you pretended to be my brother?" Momo peered up at him.

"Yes. Momo, would you still like that?" Momiji whispered.

"Yes, please." Momo's face split into a wide smile. "Would you like that too?"

"Very much." Momiji beamed. "I've never had a little sister." Suddenly he sobered, the seriousness and consequences of what he was saying hitting him. "But, Momo… we… we can't see each other. Not very much I mean. I'm going to be at university."

"Can I call you on the phone?" Momo said, her face falling. "We can just talk."

Momiji swallowed. This was a bad idea, but he couldn't go back now. Nor did he want to. "How about you write me letters? And I'll write them back to you. It'll be like being penpals!"

Momo's smile came back. "That's fun!"

"But Momo," Momiji said seriously. "One condition. It would be better if we kept this secret for now. You can't tell anyone. Not Anii, not Namie, not— not even your mom or dad. Is that ok?"

She only hesitated a second, blinking at him with those huge brown eyes, so trusting. "Ok."

Dazed, Momiji gave a weak chuckle. "Ok. Um, this is my address." He scribbled it on the used train ticket in his pocket and handed it to Momo. As she put it carefully in her pocket, smiled at him, Momiji beamed. He wanted to say something more, but he wasn't sure what else to say.

Then Momo stepped forward and wrapped her arms around his waist, and Momiji suddenly found himself being hugged for the first time by his little sister. He blinked back a few tears and hugged her tightly.

There was a clatter from the stairs, and Momiji let go. "I have to go, but I will write. I promise. Remember, you can't tell anyone." And with that, he dashed off down the street.

But just before he rounded a corner and disappeared from sight, he looked back at Momo. She was still watching him, and when she saw him turn, she smiled. And so Momiji jumped up and down once and waved, and then was gone.

_Disclaimer: Fruit's Basket and its characters belong to Natsuki Takaya._


	7. Chapter 7 Messages

**Review please.**

Momo's first letter arrived three days later. Momiji couldn't decide whether he wanted to cry or do a happy dance around his dorm room. In the end he settled for grinning like an idiot and an excited, nervous giggle.

The letter itself was unremarkable. Momo wrote about her classes at school and her best friend's princess toy and the fact that she was going to have udon for dinner which was her favorite. But while Momiji read it though, written out in Momo's loopy, childish handwriting, a ray of sunshine seemed to be piercing his chest, lifting him up with each line.

As soon as he finished, he sat down, completely disregarding all other work he had to do, and wrote her a reply.

OOO

Since the Royal Basters, as Seiko had dubbed the group of freeloader young men, had finally been called out and forced to order something by Namie, no one at the Lotus Flower Italian Cuisine restaurant expected them to return.

Then, about a week later, the group walked in casually, lead by their dark haired leader, and sat down at a table. Namie was busy with her own tables, so she had to watch Seiko grit her teeth and approach them with some trepidation. Amazingly, they were nothing if not polite to her, maybe a bit too much so, and ordered three different dishes to share around.

After that, the five young men came to the restaurant at least twice a week, in various groupings and numbers. The one constant, was that the dark haired leader was always there.

It took a few times of this, but Namie and Seiko and the rest of the staff soon learned to accept the group's regular lunches as normal, and go about serving them as usual.

One such day, three of the young men had come in for lunch, had their order's taken, and were sitting around the table talking and waiting patiently for their food. Namie was busy at the counter tallying up bills for various tables and paying the group no heed.

That is, until the leader suddenly appeared and leaned against the counter in front of her.

"Hi," he said with a winning smile.

"Hi?" Namie replied with a winningly raised eyebrow. "Are you having a problem with your meal?"

He waved a hand nonchalantly. "Oh, no, no. Just waiting for it to come."

"It'll be out soon if that's what you're worried about."

"No, it's fine." He leaned against the counter again and gave another smile that Namie ignored as she went back to hitting buttons on the register.

"I just realized, Miss Namie, that I know your name, but you don't know mine."

Namie paused, finger in midair. "What?" she said, confused.

"I've never introduced myself." He placed an hand over his heart dramatically. "That's very rude of me."

Taking him in carefully, Namie said nothing.

Undeterred, he stepped back from the counter and gave a small bow. "My name is Daisuke. You may call me Dai, if you so wish."

Namie didn't quite understand what on earth was going on. "Um, nice to meet you Daisuke. What is it exactly that you want?"

Daisuke did that grin again that Namie was beginning to wonder didn't hurt his cheeks. "Can't I come talk to a pretty girl while I'm waiting for my food?"

Taken by surprise, Namie hit the wrong button on the register, and it dinged loudly. Her cheeks flushed in spite of herself as she hastily cleared the transaction on the register and started over.

"Oh look, food's here," said Daisuke brightly. "Better go before it gets cold. Talk to you later Miss Namie."

And with yet another smile and a wink, he sauntered back to his table, leaving Namie with her mouth hanging open.

He didn't so much as glance at Namie for the rest of his meal, as far as she knew, though it was difficult to tell when Namie herself was avoiding looking at him, but after they had left, Seiko paused at her shoulder.

"For you," she said, handing Namie a folded over piece of paper. "They left it with the bill.

_For Namie_ had been written on it in scrawling handwriting. Namie opened it curiously, then stared. Inside was written a phone number and the message _In case you ever want to get something to eat that's not Italian food. –Dai_

As Namie felt her mouth fall open for the second time, Seiko curiously leaned over to read the card, and remark casually, "Well that's new."

OOO

It was a little difficult writing Momo sometimes. Momiji had to be careful to censor himself and not reveal too much to Momo. As much as he was already breaking his father's careful rules, Momiji didn't want to bring up uncomfortable questions and stir up trouble.

Once he slipped and mentioned that he knew some German. Momo had been excited, what a coincidence, her mama was German and she was teaching Momo to speak it!, and Momiji had had to back track quickly and say that he actually only knew a few phrases that he'd picked up from a German class at school. It was kind of true, his grasp on the language was slipping down to a few phrases, and he had once taken a class when he was little, as one of many attempts to impress "Mama".

It always stung a bit when Momo wrote about mama. Her view of the caring mother was so different from the cold, anxious, almost cruel at times, woman Momiji had grown up with. Though not a new realization by any means, the fact that Momiji's presence had caused the later personality, and the removal of him from her memories had causes the former, felt like a knife in his chest every time. Still, Momiji couldn't help but feel a rush of gratitude that his sister was spared the childhood he had had.

So Momiji was careful with his words, commented cheerfully on Momo's stories about her family and steered away from mentions of his own, and set aside homework to write her as often as he could.

_Disclaimer: Fruit's Basket and its characters belong to Natsuki Takaya._


	8. Author's Note: Not Forgotten

Hello to everyone who might still be following this story.

I sincerely apologize for this, but I am not going to be posting new chapters for a little while. That does not mean it will go unfinished, it will just be on pause for a time. I am in college now and with my classes and time taken for my original stories for my Creative Writing class, I will not be able to give this story the time it deserves. I love these characters and can not wait for the events that are going to be unfolding in their lives soon, but out of respect for them, the story, and you the readers, I want to wait until I can do them justice.

So please, be patient and bear with me, and Namie and Momiji's story will return.

Best,

.voice


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